


a poison i drink often

by thekardemomme



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Relationship Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27600362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekardemomme/pseuds/thekardemomme
Summary: “lucas is so tired of this. it never fucking ends, it feels like. they can’t get any peace without having to have another fucking argument about daphnè’s little sister.”set directly after mea culpa
Relationships: Eliott Demaury/Lucas Lallemant
Comments: 29
Kudos: 153





	a poison i drink often

**Author's Note:**

> “even those we love the most can be a poison to our souls.”
> 
> “break my heart and you will find yourself inside.”
> 
> \- atticus

the door clicks closed, and lucas feels as though he’s been punched in the stomach. winded and on edge, dreading having to turn around and face eliott, dreading the argument he knows they're about to have. lucas is so tired of this. it never fucking ends, it feels like. they can’t get any peace without having to have another fucking argument about daphnè’s little sister. 

he hears eliott before he sees him. the heavy footsteps padding across the small apartment, coming to a stop behind him. lucas turns around slow, so slow, and hesitantly meets eliott’s eyes. he doesn’t regret yelling at her, and he doesn’t regret making her leave, but he also doesn’t want to have to justify these actions to someone who can’t see what lola is doing to him, to _them._

eliott looks upset, more so than he has been, and lucas tries to find the inner strength to brace himself. “was that lola?” he asks, and lucas doesn’t answer. not verbally, anyway. he figures his silence is good enough. eliott sets his jaw, “what did she say?”

“that she’s sorry, of course,” lucas deadpans. he has to keep himself emotionless about it just to keep himself sane. if he lets his feelings bleed in, this will just be a screaming match, and lucas is _so tired_ of yelling. “asked to see you. i told her no.”

“that’s not your decision to make, lucas.”

lucas sighs, “this is my apartment, too. i don’t have to let anybody in that i don’t want to.”

“fine,” eliott snaps. he steps forward and grabs his jacket, like he’s going to go chase after her in his pajamas. like he even has the energy to do that after what happened. “then i’ll just go to her.”

for a second, lucas just stares at him. watches as he slowly gets dressed, because he barely has the energy to be standing. lucas doesn’t know what he’s trying to do. whether he’s trying to get lucas to cave or call his bluff. whatever it is, it pisses lucas off. 

“aren’t you tired of this?”

eliott freezes. 

“tired of what?”

“this!” lucas exclaims, voice full of exhaustion and exasperation, sweeping his arms around the room as if gesturing to something. “chasing after a girl who hurt you, who hurt _me?_ trying to fix somebody who doesn’t want to be fixed? watching her hit self destruct again and again?”

eliott’s eyes narrow, and he’s clenching his jaw again. lucas feels all the fight drain out of him, and he walks away before eliott can respond, finding himself in the kitchen. he puts the kettle on to make a cup of chamomile. it’s the only thing that helps him sleep anymore. especially on the nights when eliott isn’t here, off in the night to do something he probably lied to lucas about. 

lucas doesn’t know if eliott is tired, but he knows that _he_ is. beyond being tired of the fighting, he’s tired of the lying, the secrets, the hurt feelings, the dismissals, the feeling that he’s losing his boyfriend. he’s tired of feeling like eliott doesn’t trust him, that eliott’s bored of him already, that eliott doesn’t care as much about him as he cares about eliott. 

through all of this, all of this _bullshit,_ eliott hasn’t stopped to consider lucas’s feelings once. he’s considered everybody except lucas, it feels like. lola has somehow taken precedence over everyone, over lucas, over eliott, over eliott _and_ lucas and their relationship. this whole time, lucas has been trying to make eliott feel loved and trusted, and this whole time, eliott has been working to make sure lucas doesn’t get that in return. 

and it _hurts._

tears sting at his eyes as the heavy footsteps follow him into the kitchen. “you can’t just walk away from this, lucas,” eliott snaps. lucas can see, through his peripheral vision, that eliott is leaning against the countertop. he’s getting tired, low on energy. 

“why don’t you go lay down, eliott? i’ll join you in a minute.” they haven’t even had dinner yet. “or are you hungry? you should probably eat something.”

“goddamn it, lucas!” 

the sudden volume, the yelling that lucas has wanted to avoid, startles him. lucas flinches and takes an unconscious step away from eliott, and if eliott notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

at least, not about that. 

eliott continues, “stop treating me like a child! you can’t just… you can’t control me! talking down to me, telling me who i can and can’t hang out with, monitoring my every move like a fucking babysitter. this is exactly the kind of thing i told you not to fucking do. this is _exactly_ like lucille.”

it’s a low blow, and eliott knows it. lucas can tell that he knows it, because when his head snaps up to look at eliott, he can see the shocked expression on eliott’s face. like he hadn’t meant to say that. or like he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, at least. 

briefly, lucas can feel his bottom lip tremble. but he can’t show emotion. he just can’t. he can’t show vulnerability, because he has to be the strong one, he always has to be the strong one. for his mom, for his friends, for eliott. they need him to be the strong one. if he’s not in control of his emotions, if he’s not strong, if he’s not brave, then everything else will unravel. lucas has to deal with his own emotions privately, deep down, and keep them under strict lock and key, or else he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do. 

he takes a deep breath, just to gain back some semblance of control. “i’m not acting like lucille, eliott,” he says lowly, his voice sounding a lot more dangerous than he’d intended. a lot sharper. “you’re treating me like lucille. that’s the difference. you told me that lola thinks i’m just waiting for you to fuck up, that _you_ think i’m just waiting for you to fuck up. but that’s not true, and you know it. you’re the one that’s waiting for _me_ to fuck up.”

“lucas—”

“do you have any fucking idea what you’re doing to me?” lucas continues, and he wants to stop, _god_ he wants to stop, but he can’t. it’s like the dam is starting to crack and water is starting to leak out, only seconds away from destroying the whole thing and causing an irreparable flood. “do you? you lied to me about how you met lola _in front of lola,_ you lied to me about the urbex thing, you kept secrets about where you were going and who you were seeing, you bring lola here and let her sleep in our bed without telling me, you run off the second she calls you—like a fucking dog—without ever telling me _anything_ about it, and then to top it all off i get a fucking phone call from the fucking police because you got wasted with her. have you stopped for one second, stopped thinking about her and stopped thinking about yourself, and thought about _me?_ thought about how you’re making me feel? i’m your boyfriend, eliott. or have you forgotten?”

they stare at each other, then. lucas is still breathing hard, all worked up from going off like that, and eliott seems to be at a loss for words. it isn’t the first time he’s left eliott speechless, but it is the first time he’s ever left eliott speechless under such shitty circumstances. he doesn’t know if going off like that is cathartic and relieving, or if it just makes him feel worse. 

before eliott can respond, the kettle whistles. lucas jumps at the sound but then rushes to grab it, grabbing mug with shaky hands. they’re shaking so badly that he ends up spilling the boiling water all over the counter, and it drips down onto the floor. 

he curses, loudly, and rushes to grab a towel. he’s barely aware of the fact that he’s crying now, too. eliott comes forward and tries to take the towel from his hands, whispering for him to _just let me help you, baby,_ but lucas snatches the towel back and holds a hand up to eliott. 

“please, just stop,” he begs. eliott steps back, hands up in surrender, and he watches as lucas haphazardly starts mopping up the hot water from the countertop. so much for chamomile tea. “i can’t do this anymore, eliott,” lucas says, voice shaking like a leaf, barely able to hold back sobs, as he kneels down to get the water off the floor. “i’m so tired.”

“baby…”

“i just don’t understand what i did. i don’t know what i did to make you feel like you couldn’t trust me, or that i’d leave you over fucking urbex, or that you couldn’t talk to me about lola. i’ve tried so hard over the past year to make you realize that i love you, so much, and i don’t know what i’m doing wrong.” he drops the towel and rests his hands on the floor, barely holding himself up. “i’m sorry, okay? i’m sorry. i don’t know what’s changed since fucking _february_ but i’m sorry.”

eliott kneels down next to him. he uses the towel to wipe up the rest of the water and then, one by one, peels lucas’s hands off the floor and holds them in his own. he laces their fingers together and squeezes, and lucas takes the small bit of comfort, even though he can’t look eliott in the eye. 

“i love you,” eliott whispers, and that alone nearly breaks lucas’s last bit of resolve. “but you have to understand that i’m not going to stop being lola’s friend. i’m not going to stop caring about her, and you can’t ask me to. you just have to trust me.”

lucas’s breath, when it comes, is shaky and uneven. he wants so badly to fall into eliott’s arms and let him hold him until he’s better, but he can’t. “it isn’t me that doesn’t trust you,” lucas murmurs, “it’s you that doesn’t trust me.”

“lola isn’t going anywhere. okay? but you know that you’re the only one i want and—”

 _god,_ is he even listening? lucas feels, suddenly, frustrated and angry, like there’s something deep in his body trying to break out through his skin. he pulls his hands from eliott’s and forces himself to stand up, throwing the towel back onto the counter. 

eliott stands up, too, and tries to grab lucas’s arm again. “don’t touch me,” lucas snaps, taking a step back and away. “eliott, it’s like you’re not even listening. i’m not jealous of her. i don’t think you have feelings for her, or whatever. i’m not jealous and possessive, i’m _scared.”_

“scared of what?”

“of losing you!” lucas blurts, because it’s all he can think about. he’s felt, every single day since the day he met lola, that he’s losing eliott. maybe not all at once, but slowly. gradually. like one day he’ll wake up and he won’t even recognize eliott anymore. “sometimes it feels like i don’t even know you.”

eliott looks confused, and that just makes lucas even _more_ frustrated. “what do you mean?”

“i _mean_ that the eliott i fell in love with… he trusted me. maybe not at first, but over time. he didn’t lie to me anymore, he didn’t keep secrets from me anymore. he made me a priority in his life.”

“baby. you’re my number one priority, you know that.”

“do i? because it doesn’t feel like it anymore. everyday it feels like you’re slipping further and further away, and all i can do is watch it happen, because i love you so much and i don’t want— i didn’t want to have this conversation and risk you telling me that you’re not happy anymore.”

lucas isn’t sure what exactly he said that got through to eliott, but he sees the way eliott’s eyes change, the way his expression softens. he watches as eliott crumbles, his defensive side falls apart, and his shoulders slump forward like he’s lost all of his fight. 

he looks _sad,_ and it occurs to lucas suddenly that there’s a real possibility that eliott is about to break up with him, and it’s too much to bear. so he keeps talking. 

“i’m not asking you to stop seeing her,” he rushes to add, in case _that’s_ the dealbreaker. “i’m just. i just want you to see _me,_ too. the way you used to.” he hopes that eliott picks up on the double meaning, and realizes that he doesn’t mean physically seeing, he means… well, everything else. 

“oh, baby.” eliott comes forward again, and lucas lets him. in fact, he’s the one that launches himself forward, burrowing himself into eliott’s chest. eliott wraps his arms around lucas’s middle, and then brings one up to bury his hand in lucas’s hair. 

lucas grabs the back of eliott’s hoodie, bunching the fabric up in his fists. he’s crying, still—not sobbing, but not exactly quiet crying either. eliott is shushing him, whispering sweet nothings and gentle _i love you_ s, rubbing his palm over the expanse of lucas’s back. 

if lucas focuses enough, he can just feel that eliott’s hand is rubbing hearts on his back. 

he feels like a pathetic mess, really, for crying on eliott’s shoulder about something that he’s mostly been able to handle calmly. sure, he’s had a few angry moments, but nothing like _this._ nothing too vulnerable, nothing that would show eliott that he’s out of his depth handling this, that eliott is hurting him. he never wanted eliott to know that he was hurting him, because he knew it would just break eliott’s heart. 

maybe that’s one of lucas’s faults. he brushes his feelings under the rug, doesn’t communicate the way he asks eliott to. it would be naïve and unfair of him to put all the blame on eliott, when he knows he probably played a part in it too. 

“i’m sorry,” lucas whispers again. 

eliott shakes his head, “don’t be, baby. this isn’t your fault. i… you’re right, i projected my fears onto you, and i treated you unfairly because of that. i haven’t trusted you the way you trust me, and i haven’t been the best boyfriend recently. and _i’m_ sorry, my love. i’ll be better for you, i promise.”

“no, i _am_ sorry,” lucas insists. “if you didn’t trust me fully, that’s for a reason. you kept things from me because i made you, at least partly, feel like you had to. so i’m sorry, and when i’m less emotional, i want to talk about it. talk about my behavior and how i can be better for you, too.”

eliott normally would just keep insisting that lucas doesn’t need to apologize, but he doesn’t today. probably because he realizes how sensitive lucas is. “okay,” eliott nods. “tomorrow morning, we can talk. about how both of us feel, and how to fix it.” a pause. “but, hey, i need to tell you something.”

lucas’s heart _sinks._ that sentence almost never fucking goes well. 

“you’re not losing me,” eliott tells him, and lucas nearly starts crying again. _nearly._ “i love you so much. yesterday, today, tomorrow, i’m so fucking in love with you. and i’m sorry that i haven’t been showing it, and tomorrow we can talk about what i can do to show you. i’ll do anything, you know that.”

“i know,” lucas nods. because he does, and there’s no point in lying. he’s never doubted eliott’s love for him—that’s always been a given. lucas can doubt everything else, but he’s never doubted that. “i love you too. and i’m hungry.”

eliott laughs, and it almost sounds out of place, but it makes lucas smile. just a little bit. “i’d offer to cook for you, but i’m not allowed to touch anything in the kitchen.”

“just go lay down,” lucas murmurs, leaning back from the hug. he cups eliott’s cheek with one hand, and offers a small smile. “i’ll make dinner, and we can watch a movie while we eat. just… decompress.”

unsurprisingly, eliott is quick to agree. he disappears to the bedroom—not without kissing lucas quickly, to make sure lucas knew he was loved—leaving lucas alone in the kitchen. 

lucas turns back to the kettle and the wet towel, and he sags against the counter. his heart still feels heavy, his limbs hurt, and there’s still a tight ball of anxiety in his chest. he knows it’ll take more than just tonight’s apologies and tomorrow’s promises to truly make him feel better, but he just isn’t up for it tonight. he’s too tired. 

and besides, he has to be the strong one. if he’d kept fighting, kept crying, kept showing that vulnerability, then everything would just unravel. it would fall apart, crumble, fall out of his hands like sand. and he would rather go through all of this than risk his relationship unraveling. he loves eliott too much for that. 

he picks up the towel, drops it in the laundry, and then, while he decides what to make for dinner, he refills the kettle for a second attempt at chamomile tea. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @wlwharrys and on twitter @starsamidala


End file.
